


Monochrome

by imayooshi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied abuse, M/M, bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 18:52:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5216852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imayooshi/pseuds/imayooshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world of color, the monochromatic is no more than a prisoner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Monochrome

**Author's Note:**

> This was was actually meant for a writing assignment at school, but I ended up changing the names a little muahahaha.

**Konoha**

He sits in his seat at the back of the room, pen twirling idly between skilled fingers, eyes wandering around the dimly lit room.

Everything about this place was perfectly tinted with vibrant hues.

All but except him.

Konoha Akinori subconsciously scribbles down another note to himself, hollow eyes forcing themselves away from the space around him, settling on the seat in front of him instead.

_Ah, of course, the blissful feeling of being in love._ Akinori closes his eyes and leans back against his chair, allowing the warm sunlight to dance over his now dull golden hair.

The sky is a soft, gentle wash of lilac, with a few splashes of bright magenta.

The days aren’t as beautiful as they used to be.

Gone were the days where Konoha Akinori laughed innocently.

Gone were the times where he smiled at everything.

Akinori sets down his pen, adjusts the strap of his bag and sweeps his eyes once more around the empty classroom, enjoying the silence the normally bustling room rarely offered.

He turns and leaves the room, tripping over his own foot halfway through the door, vehemently swearing as he picks himself up.

In a world of color, the monochromatic is no more than a prisoner.

Akinori walks alone along the familiar path he passes through every day on his way home. The sky is now a murky shade of grayish indigo, dark clouds etched deep against the heavens like scars. Scars much like his own.

Konoha Akinori is not the most fortunate of people. Bruises scattering like stars across his lithe frame, skin no longer pure as it once was, now littered with subtle streaks of crimson.

Scars that hurt less than they should whenever _he’s_ by Akinori’s side.

 

* * *

 

 

**Washio**

Not unlike Konoha, WashioTatsuki is also a prisoner of the world.

Not so different, yet different still.

Washio is merely the one who walks with more hues than the man in black and white, but much less than the vivid.

Keeping Konoha under his watchful eye, much less shielding him under his wing, is never an easy task, predominantly due to Konoha's evasive nature, partially due to his own fear of rejection.

_Love is but a foolish thing._  Washio rounds the corner, coming to a halt when he sees Akinori. Washio stills, then instinctively catches up to the other, greets him and keeps him company for the rest of the journey. They reach Konoha's house, a plain white two-storey with a gently hipped roof, like any other modern Japanese household. Shinohara Akinori rings the bell once, twice, and is welcomed by the unearthly sight of his drunken father.

Akinori bids Washio a good evening, closes the door and prepares what has yet to come.

Washio turns and continues his way home, the familiar sensation of restlessness tugging at his chest.

* * *

 

The sky is now a dark shade of Prussian blue, save for a few stars dotted against the mantle high above.

Washio finishes up the last of his work, switches off the lights and proceeds to have a good night’s rest.

Or so he wishes.

The buzzing of his phone promptly interrupts the silence of the night, much to his annoyance. Heaving a sigh, Washio checks it, only to find a message from Akinori.

Feeling uneasy, he reads it.

‘help.’

 

* * *

 

 

**Konoha**

Akinori is trembling. The fortress he built that surrounded him all this time finally crumbles, and breaks.

Covering his mouth, tears silently rolling down, he curls up against the cold wall.

He will never live down the shame of being marked by his father.

The distinctive click of an unlocking door causes him to gasp.

Akinori closes his eyes, expecting the worst.

The worst never came.

Washio holds up the spare keys Akinori entrusted him with.

Pain claws at Washio’s heart, out of fury, out of…love.

Without a word, the two swiftly make their way out of the Konoha household, to Washio’s house, to the place Akinori truly called home.

 

* * *

 

** Epilogue **

The days pass.

Konoha Akinori is no longer monochromatic. His eyes are no longer hollow, his hair now shines with the radiance of sunlight. The vibrant hues gradually return to him. The scars, they stay, still etched on his skin.

Scars that are fading.

Scars that never changed Washio Tatsuki’s love for him.

Washio holds him close, lifting Akinori ever so slightly.

They close their eyes, feeling each other’s warm breath upon their faces.

Euphoria.


End file.
